Array 126 // Video
[Transmutation circles are done in chalk on the floor, the PCD set well away from it. This time, though... this time they're in large, sweeping designs, a strong break from the normal geometric circles and lines anyone will have seen the alchemists draw. In several places the chalk has splintered and there are red streaks, as if the person drawing them kept going until their fingers rubbed raw enough to bleed. For anyone who knows the place, they'd be able to recognize it instantly;
Al's basement laboratory.
The young man's stripped down to nothing on top, and his breath shows fog in the cold room. All his scars are visible in the light of the single lantern, marking his skin with silvery feathers here and there, over his neck and shoulders. There is a worse one in his side, a badly healed one in his leg.
A small, scalpel-like knife is in his hand.
There are arrays cut into his skin, shallow, but enough to bleed and drip. Arms. Legs. Forehead. Over his heart. Al never uses blood in his alchemy. Ever. Despite the dire implications of having cut himself, his expression is oddly serene.
Alphonse sets down the scalpel outside of the array and gets to his feet, walking barefooted into the center of the design. Goosebumps flush over his skin and he trembles.
From somewhere behind the PCD, there is a noise, but Al doesn't look up. He brings his hands together as if he's praying, then takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. This would be where he transmutes something -- instead, crosses his hands over his chest, pressing them to the array there.
The shallow cuts of the arrays seem to light up with a bright, electric blue inner light. The array on the floor, from his feet outwards, spills out the same light.
There is a low rumble, and suddenly, everything goes wrong.
Al's eyes snap open, and he makes a choking noise, the look on his face warping to distress and terror. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.
Wind rips through the room. The cracks of lightning, blue as the array, shoot out in a shower of sparks, slamming into the objects around the room. Glass shatters, paper explodes in a spray and is quickly shredded by the howling gale of the winds. The light of the array goes out, plunging the room into semidarkness.
A scream rips through the basement, a young, high male voice.]
AL--!!
[The wind lifts Alphonse from his feet, and the lightning crashes through the room in waves, dancing around him, followed by the ghostly crackle and static associated with the Animus. Alphonse twists and writhes, mouth open, eyes wide as his back arches at an almost impossible angle, contorting in pain--
A bright flash lights the room, and even on the video feed, it's blinding. There is a sound like a thunderclap, and Alphonse falls to the floor in a heap.
Like a broken doll.
The voice from earlier lets out a wrenching scream, and Negi rushes over to him, frantically checking for a pulse. Moments, later, tears flood the boy's eyes.
The feed statics, and a rushing sound that sounds almost like a cackle switches it off.]
[ooc; Forward-dated to about fifteen minutes before midnight. ... there will be responses to this post.]
Al's basement laboratory.
The young man's stripped down to nothing on top, and his breath shows fog in the cold room. All his scars are visible in the light of the single lantern, marking his skin with silvery feathers here and there, over his neck and shoulders. There is a worse one in his side, a badly healed one in his leg.
A small, scalpel-like knife is in his hand.
There are arrays cut into his skin, shallow, but enough to bleed and drip. Arms. Legs. Forehead. Over his heart. Al never uses blood in his alchemy. Ever. Despite the dire implications of having cut himself, his expression is oddly serene.
Alphonse sets down the scalpel outside of the array and gets to his feet, walking barefooted into the center of the design. Goosebumps flush over his skin and he trembles.
From somewhere behind the PCD, there is a noise, but Al doesn't look up. He brings his hands together as if he's praying, then takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. This would be where he transmutes something -- instead, crosses his hands over his chest, pressing them to the array there.
The shallow cuts of the arrays seem to light up with a bright, electric blue inner light. The array on the floor, from his feet outwards, spills out the same light.
There is a low rumble, and suddenly, everything goes wrong.
Al's eyes snap open, and he makes a choking noise, the look on his face warping to distress and terror. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.
Wind rips through the room. The cracks of lightning, blue as the array, shoot out in a shower of sparks, slamming into the objects around the room. Glass shatters, paper explodes in a spray and is quickly shredded by the howling gale of the winds. The light of the array goes out, plunging the room into semidarkness.
A scream rips through the basement, a young, high male voice.]
AL--!!
[The wind lifts Alphonse from his feet, and the lightning crashes through the room in waves, dancing around him, followed by the ghostly crackle and static associated with the Animus. Alphonse twists and writhes, mouth open, eyes wide as his back arches at an almost impossible angle, contorting in pain--
A bright flash lights the room, and even on the video feed, it's blinding. There is a sound like a thunderclap, and Alphonse falls to the floor in a heap.
Like a broken doll.
The voice from earlier lets out a wrenching scream, and Negi rushes over to him, frantically checking for a pulse. Moments, later, tears flood the boy's eyes.
The feed statics, and a rushing sound that sounds almost like a cackle switches it off.]
[ooc; Forward-dated to about fifteen minutes before midnight. ... there will be responses to this post.]